


This Changes Everything

by Sodastrom



Category: The Fugitive (1993)
Genre: Angst, Bickering, F/M, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-12-13 02:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodastrom/pseuds/Sodastrom
Summary: Soulmarks are a funny thing. Some people don’t get them for years after they turn 18, some get them at the second of their birth time on their 18th, some are simply born with it, some never receive one. It’s the first words said etched across each other’s skin.Some real shitty examples of soulmarks are 'I didn’t kill my wife' and 'I don’t care'.





	1. Doubt Provoking

**1964**

Richard received his soulmark when he was 21, as he was writing application essays to several med schools. His left shoulder had been bothering him all day. Late that evening, the burning blossomed throughout his body; he threw his head back and rubbed his neck to ease the stretching pain. He was really excited to see what his soulmate would say to him. It was like the stars were aligning and making life so much more exhilarating. After the pain simmered down, he quickly went to the bathroom to admire the mark. He pulled off his shirt, and disappointment plunged in.

-

Sam had spent the day at the lake with his pals. It was his senior year and his 18th birthday. The Texas day was warm and humid, like the last 4 months, but that never stop the guys from drinking cheap beer out on an island ‘til the sun went down. The topic was Sam’s sexy soulmate he was going to have. David and Joe had already found theirs, ended up being two ladies from a couple of towns over. Eric’s was his current girl and Ray hadn't turned 18 yet. Sam was nervous to find out, though, he worried that he would never meet her. That she'd live in some big city states away, and he'd never leave home. 

Sam had left the excitement first to sleep it off in the tent when his shoulder started to burn. It burned for what felt like hours. His mixed emotions were growing with every stretched second. After the pain subsided, Sam grabbed his mother’s hand mirror, he had borrowed just in case, and looked at his mark. He didn't understand. 

_I didn't kill my wife._

-

_I don't care._   


The words crippled Richard’s hopefully outlook on this soulmate thing. Although he knew it was just his anxious nature, but he couldn't help but think that his soulmate was uncaring. He would fantasize that it was like an indecisive answer and his soulmate’s shoulder would have said something like ‘can I sit here?’ or ‘may I borrow this chair?’ but he wasn't too optimistic. What happy, carefree conversation starts with _I don't care?_

The next day, he showed it to his best friend, Charles, who tried to be sympathetic, but also wasn't too optimistic. Richard had met Charles at a medical school fair a few months ago, and found out they didn't live too far away, so they started to study together. Richard enjoyed Charles blunt and sarcastic attitude. Charles was just happy to find someone to have an intellectual conversation with, which he informed Richard after complain about a microbiology professor. Charles didn't have a soulmark, and he was quite cheerfully about it. After showing Charles, Richard kept the mark covered and tried to forget it the best he could. 

-

The day after Sam’s birthday was filled with a hangover-induced silence between the boys as they packed their stuff and loaded it up onto Joe’s small fisherman's boat. Thankfully no one had asked Sam about his mark, although he’d planned on saying he hadn't gotten it yet.  
Whenever he arrived home his mother welcomed him with coffee and waffles, which he devoured. Leaning back in his chair, it all started to overwhelmed him. 

He was apparently gay or at least his soulmate was a guy. 

His soulmate was criminal? Or maybe just involved in a scandal that ended up with a woman  
dead?

He couldn't tell anyone ever, especially his father. 

His friends would never understand. 

He didn't want to meet the guy. 

Could his soulmate ever love him, with all his heart or did it belong to her?

How the hell was he suppose to meet this criminal?

How the hell did his soulmate get wrapped up in this-this-this _scandal?_

What the hell was he going to do?

\- 

**1993**

Sam was a sucker for pain. He felt like he was chasing down a asswhooping. He went to a community college, not far from home, studied criminal justice. Not to long after he graduated, Sam applied for the Fugitive Task Force in the US Marshal Program. For 25 years, he has been hunting down fugitives, searching for answers that each case leaves unanswered and filled with more dread than before. Every night, he looked at down at shoulder and wonder what if he never did find the one? Did he want to? But every morning he’d wake up and hoping a case would lead him there. His job took him all over the states, wherever the trail took him. His younger self thought that would be a good way to meet new and different people. He moved to a big city ‘for the job.’ Chicago wasn’t that bad, it was fun and distracting at first with all the games and nightlife. But as he aged and rookies got younger, he became stagnant and a workaholic. 

Sam use to hop on every case that had a fugitive with a dead wife, in hopes maybe he was innocent. No one was ever innocent. To some degree were guilty in the aspect of dead wives, either hiring a hitman or pissing off a drug lord. Recently, he had given up looking or hoping to find the guy. Just poured himself into work and bringing justice. 

He had finally worked up the system to get his own team. The team had worked together long enough to know when to leave Sam alone or when to crack a joke about his choice in coffee mugs or ties. Cosmo, one of the longest lasting colleagues, didn’t know the difference and would barge in the bullpen waving a new case in the faces of rival teams as he marched straight into Sam's office for him to lead the way. Just like he was doing now.

“We’ve got a new one!” Cosmo said, trotting into Sam’s office, “Wreck by the river, just an hour out of the city. Involves a train and a transport bus containing 6 potential fugitives. Big guy wants us to double check the death toll,”

“Alright, Let’s get to work,” Sam shouted, “Andiamo bambini!” They had all stayed a little late to finish paperwork and mess with the rookie, Newman. They told him that they never left before Gerard. 

The elevator and car ride was full of bickering between Poole and Cosmo on how to drive and which way to go. Biggs was commentating to Newman on who was using the best jeers. Sam smirked and pointed out directions. Soon they came upon flashing lights and a scattered train. He smoothly got out of the car, briskly walked towards the body of workers and surveyed the damage, thinking he wouldn’t have many live ones on this case. “My, my, my.”

“It’s a circus. Newman, you got my bag?” Cosmo said over his shoulder. As they walked, Poole dived her way in between Cosmo and Sam, she bumped between them several times. “I told you not to wear the heels!” 

“And get another coat,” Sam added. 

“I’ll remember that for the next train wreck,” Poole rolled her eyes.

“Why are we always mothering her?” Biggs complained.

“Because she loves it!” Cosmo jostled Poole’s shoulder.

“Biggs checked down there-and take Newman,” Sam barked, and Biggs obey with Newman tagging along. He started off to camera lights and heard an old man rattling on about the train wreck. Sam submerged himself into the group of bystanders, just as the man finished the story. A younger man kissed the survivor’s ass, who took it all in. “Excuse me, Sheriff, I’m US Marshal Samuel Gerard, I would like to talk to yo-”

“Uh, I’ll be with you in just one second,” said the sheriff cutting Sam off. 

“Oh, okay,” _Asshole,_ Sam thought. 

“Now, one more time, for the record, these three are dead. And this one?”

“Wel-well, it all happened so- yea, yea, there’s no way he could of made it,” the old man didn’t sound too convincing. Sam glanced at the sheet, Dr. Richard Kimble. He had followed his story as it went through the system. He banged his wife’s head in with a lamp as she fought him all throughout their home. Although, he didn’t jump at the dead wife cases anymore, he did like to stay up to date on them. 

“Looks like you came all this way for nothing,” the sheriff nodded. 

“All to due respect, but I’d like to put up roadblocks o-”

“Wo-woah, wait a minute! He said they are all dead. There’s no reason in setting up roadblocks, all it will do is get a whole bunch of people upset and flood my station with calls,” He cut Sam off again. 

“Well, shit, sheriff, I’d hate to see that happen, so I’ll just take over your crime scene,” Poole taps the guy on the shoulder to pass him the paperwork. The sheriff wasn’t to happy to see that. 

“You want this? Okay, you got it,” Sheriff shoved the file toward Sam, “Listen up, everybody! Wyatt Urb is here to clean up,” The sheriff was really starting to piss him off.

“Oh, yea, very funny,” Sam said, in a deep sarcastic tone. Biggs caught his eye through the crowd and head up leg irons. “OH! Look-y-here. We got leg irons with no legs in ‘em. Any idea how that would of happened?” he shined the iron in the men’s face, “Who had the key?”

“Me,” the old man said sheepishly.

“Where are those keys at?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Care to revise your statement, sir?” Poole asked, her eyebrows raised high.

“What?” 

“Care to change your bullshit story, sir?” Sam all but growled. Poole held up Kimble’s file. 

“He might’ve got out.” he said even more sheepishly.

“He might’ve got out,” Sam echoed as he nodded.

“What the hell is this?!” the sheriff hollered, “One minute you say he is dead, the next he’s alive?”

“Our fugitive has been on the run for 90 minutes that gives us a four mile radius,” Sam yelled and gave his team different orders. “I want you to search very road, gas station, shed, house, dog house, and hen house! The name of our fugitive is Dr. Richard Kimble.” Sam said his name in such an smug rhythmic tone. The words sent a shock through his body. “Go get him!” 

-

Richard had grieved, he has experienced shock and denial. Thinking his wife would waltz into the interrogation room, court room, or prison cell laughing with her toothy smile, saying it was all an elaborate prank that she pulled off. She had thing for the long con pranks. The way she would laugh after they were over was enough to sooth any hard feelings. Richard had felt despair as he waited on the jury to return, and give him the answer on his life. Felt it in his cell awaiting transfer. Felt in every meal he ate alone, and when he would sleep. Images of his wife’s murder play over and over.

He had lived with anger throughout the investigation. Those police officers had him guilty for the very beginning. They might as well have strapped him to the electric chair. The lawyers were shit and had done the bare minimum to fight for his innocence and Helen’s justice. As he was forced to relive that horrid night everything day for months as the court judged his level ‘guilt.’ He and the man who killed her knew the truth, and they were the only ones. 

Richard loved Helen to the moon and back again. She loved him even though he had a soulmark that didn’t belong to her, since she was unmarked. She loved him even though he worked late night and early mornings. She loved him even though he would close up and not talk to about how he felt. He loved her even though she ranted on about her feelings. He loved her even though he knew he belong to someone else. He loved her knowing that she loved him and whoever his soul make was suppose to be. 

As he was sitting on the bus after the ruling, it felt like he was on outsider. Like an observer looking in. He saw the mutiny coming. He didn’t like it, but there was a piece of him that saw a way out, to find Helen’s murderer and clear his name. The youngest prisoner had started choking and foaming at the mouth. The guard rushed in to the locked compartment to help. _Noble idiot._ Richard thought. The guard was shoved backwards with a shank to the stomach, consequently the older guard shot the prisoner. The bus driver swerved and the old guard shot off another round as one of the other prisoners grabbed for the gun, it hit the bus driver. Now they were rolling, Richard got slammed into the roof of the bus. All of them were flying around the bus, he heard bone snapping. Then their plan had gone awry, because two of the prisoners and the bus driver were dead and they were on top of train tracks. 

On train tracks with a man bleeding out and no one to help him get out before the impending train runs over them. He swore to an oath 25 years ago and he wasn’t to break it now by leaving the naive man there to die, especially since he was . He lift the younger man onto his shoulder and pushed him through the an open window, crawled up after him, just as the train was blindingly close. Richard jumped out barely with enough time to escape. The terror didn’t end there as the train started to slide off the tracks as he hopped as fast as he could. He found shelter under a little bridge while the train came crashing down around him. 

When the noise and broken train settled, he stood and walked out from the crash. He was in vivid awe of the mess he had just seen transpire. A hand reached to help him up a hill, it was Copeland, the only other surviving prisoner. He took the hand and eyed Copeland suspiciously. Copeland returned the look, after making a decision, grabbed Richard’s leg irons and pulled out a set of keys. 

“Now, I don’t care where you go, but don’t follow me,” Copeland warned. Richard nodded. 

“Copeland, try to be good,” Richard warned as Copeland stood to leave. Copeland just smiled and quickly walked away. Richard stood as well and went the opposite direction. His side started to hurt as the adrenaline worn off. He felt a long slit in his side. Cursing under his breath, he began to limp along quickly, then started into a run as panic started to settle in again. 

He knew he to get as far as possible if he was going to stay out of the cops’ reach. He didn’t sleep at all that night, he just ran. He ran the riverbank, until daybreak, when he stumbled upon a mechanic’s shop and stole a new jumpsuit. He jogged as down the street toward the hospital signs. He silently thanked god for giving he the mechanic jumpsuit, because the maintenance men did not even notice him walk in with a box in his hands. After he discarded the box, Richard walked towards the exam rooms.

It truly felt refreshing to be in a hospital. It had always Richard’s favorite place. He loved the smell the lighting, the people who valued teamwork and hardwork would buzz thourgh Richard every morning. He enjoyed spend all of his time there. Before he met Helen, he would go and sit by his sickest patient’s room with a book while they recovered in the ICU. 

Opening a door to one of the rooms, he sighed in half relief. He opened one the drawers to find sterilization kits, gauze, and vials of lidocaine and Zofran. In the next, he found needles and a stitches kit. He stripped the top half of his clothing and sat down on the doctor’s stool. Sighing in pain, Richard prepared himself for the next painful venture. He reached for the lidocaine vial, a syringe, and a needle. He clean off a spot on his hip and preped the syringe. He worked quickly, as he stuck himself and injected the medicine, then moved onto stitching his side up. The medicine had barely kicked in, so the pain was incredible, but he endured it. He had this itching feeling telling him that he will be caught if he stays in one place for too long. He had to get back to Chicago to find his wife’s murderer. Clear his name and grieve Helen properly. 

After the pain subsided, Richard heads out and down the hall toward in patient care rooms. He saw a room with a chart, he flipped through it quickly. Ron Wood, broken jaw and strained neck. He stepped in, glancing at the sleeping man. Richard grabbed an outfit hanging on the small closet. He walked into the bathroom as the main door opened, he shovel around quietly and held open the door for the nurse. She filled up the cup and waltz back out. He sighed and closed the door. He got dressed and stared at his reflection. He knew he was going to have to do it sooner or later. Richard petted his beard, thinking about how Helen used to rave about it. He glanced once more at his reflections and started to shave it off. Once he was done, he stepped back into the room, stole the man’s food, leaving without a sound. He ate as he walked out of the hospital. He briefly encountered an officer asking about, well, himself, but he brushed it off rather lightly. In the parking lot, an ambulance showed up. _What an ironic getaway vehicle,_ he thought. He went to offer a helping hand to the EMTS, come to find out it was the young guard from the bus. Richard looked at the young man, put the oxygen mask over his mouth, and rushed him into the hospital. 

“Tell the nurse he has a stab wound to the upper gastrointestinal region!” He shouted after them as he closed the doors. 

“How the hell did he know from just looking at his face?” One of EMTS asked as Richard slid into the driver’s seat. 

One second of relief rushes over Richard, this was the first time since late last night that he has felt something other than pure adrenaline. 7:02 am. He had been at the for 11 hours, and truth to be told, he was ready to fucking sleep. He was warming up in the old man’s clothes and lukewarm cab. He closed his eyes for just a second, then reached for the keys. 

-

The team had been switing through information on Kimble and Copeland’s whereabouts all night. The prick of a sheriff was right about being flooded with calls. Several calls were so obviously fake that they sent two guys out to check a long list of them. As the team profiled and research the two fugitives, Sam examined Kimble’s story closely. Kimble had been, seemingly, happily married to Helen for 13 years before she died, no children. Kimble was a cardiovascular surgeon at Chicago Memorial Hospital for 24 years. Helen was an environmental lawyer on the outskirts on the Chicago. Both Kimbles was born and raised in Chicago. Kimble went to University of Illinois College of Medicine, and his wife went to University of Illinois at UC. After looking through his accomplishments, Sam found Kimble to be a very intelligent guy, he had his hand in several research projects, had a taught a couple of classes at his alum, and he had some students following him. Definitely not the typical fugitive he dealt with. 

 

Eventually Sam had gotten tired of staring down at paperwork, so he stepped out of the makeshift office to ask the team about some leads. He surveyed them for a moment, hard at work. Cosmo was yelling on the phone as Poole was also on the cellular phone asking questions. 

“Police found a blood trail about two miles south.” Poole shouted over the other noise after she noticed him. 

“Biggs, check that blood type to our fugitives,” Biggs huffed an acknowledgement, “Cosmo, send a fax of Kimble to every hospital and follow up those officers.” He noticed Newman starring out at the wreck. 

“Newman, what are you doing?” He asked strictly. 

“I’m thinking?” 

“Well, think me up a doughnut with those little sprinkles on it and a cup of coffee, would you?” He asked sarcastically, but meant it nonetheless. In the distance he heard shouts about something being alive.

“We’ve got a live one!” Cosmo shouts, as he drops what he was doing to see who it was. Sam followed him, his brain shifting to thought that maybe it was Kimble, and the goosechase for him, at least, would be over. When he reached the section of the wreck that had started to overpopulate, he saw it was the other guard from corrections bus.

When the excitement died down, he and the team were discussing contacts and potential accomplices. He was a good doctor had lots of friends, some in high places. 

“I want phone taps on all the potentialed people and his lawyer,” Sam told Cosmo.

“Woah, you are never going to get that!” Cosmo protested.

“You call the judge and tell him I want phone taps and make it happen.”

“Why do you always yell at me? Why don’t you yell at her?” Cosmo whined as Poole chuckled. 

“Sam!” Biggs called, “Just got a call from the hospital, the wounded guard says he saw Kimble out in the parking lot. And, get this, there’s a missing ambulance.” 

“What the hell is he doing with an ambulance?” Sam inquired.


	2. Meeting misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to update, I'm in college so I don't have much time for anything.

Honestly, Richard would have thought the scenery was beautiful, the green and brown of the trees and wildlife mixed delicately with the light black of the old road and the tan color of the dam, but he was on the run. He could hear the police giving orders and directions over the radio. One voice in particular it was rough and half way sarcastic giving majority of orders. The ambulance was a better idea than what he was anticipating, he was able to listen in on the responder airwaves. He heard sirens and a helicopter whirring close to him. They had let him know of a tunnel that was coming up ahead, he put his foot fully on the gas pedal. 

He could see the helicopter, now, it was parallel to him. He started to think they had finally got him. It was almost over. Helen’s murderer would continue to be free and he would be executed. As the tunnel approached, a vengeful wave passed over him. _No,_ he thought, _no, I won’t go this easily._ He passed cars and tried to get out of the tunnel quickly, but as he started to see the exit, the helicopter was already landing police cars were filling the tunnel. _Shit._ He heard people running and shouting. Hopping out of the ambulance, he assessed this lousy situation. Basically, the only thing to do is hide. But where? They’d look in and under cars, demolish the ambulance, who knew if and where a service door was, he could go down a manhole, but that would leave him too vulnerable for too long. He could fight one or two of them, but it was a losing battle. Only one way to go and that was to run for it, there had to be some way to escape somewhere. 

Then Richard saw it, a storm drain, it was going to be a tight squeeze, but if adrenaline can’t make you do stupid risky stuff, what was it used for? As slipped down, he heard frustrated shouts and people asking what was going on and where the hell he went? Richard smirked at little at the comment.

-

Sam loaded up into the helicopter, this was the best part of the job. The chase, it made him forget about his life, he just zoned in on the fugitive and the strategies at hand. It made him feel free. As he gave out instruction and listened to updates, he looked for the ambulance. He smirked, _how ironic._

“Let’s get him blocked in.” Sam said into the head piece. They diverged from the view of the ambulance to go on the other side of the tunnel. They landed quickly, Sam hopped out of the helicopter before it was solidly on the ground. The rush of being so close to catching a fugitive. The familiar rush of closing in on a fugitive that might be his soulmate is rejuvenating to his old fascination. The thought that Richard might be the _one_ strayed into his mind. Sam and a few from his team raced into the tunnel, he pointed commands as he went for the ambulance. “What do you got?” he shouted at Biggs, “Where is he?” 

“I got nothing,” Biggs, noticing Sam was also empty handed, had his arms spread in defeat, “You gotta be kidding me!”

Sam’s anger ran over him, but he put it to work in thinking about where he could have gone. There were no service doors, someone would have noticed if he went down a manhole, he hadn’t ran passed anyone. He sighed, clearing his mind to calm down, then he heard it. Water racing to a drain. He turned and looked down. He walked over to it, his team was following him. He lifted the top and tossed it to the side and sat down to get a good look in the hole. 

“We got a gopher,” Sam smirked. He leaped down onto the rock below him. Cosmo and biggs clambered down after him.

“Ah, shit, I just got these shoes,” Cosmo whined, as he stepped down into the rushing water.

“Shut up, Cosmo,” Sam uttered, taking off toward the sound of heavy sloshing. As they reached a fork, he directed the other two left and Sam went right. He liked to apprehend fugitives like Kimble by himself, just in case they were the one on his shoulder. He felt like a lovesick teenager, just putting him in dangerous situations so that he has the chance to catch a glimpse of something beautiful. On other cases, he hadn’t felt like this, he felt protection over Kimble’s case, something just didn’t seem right about it. He felt like something was pulling him towards the man, like a rope was connected between them. He was glad he had only cat napped since the case began, because Kimble was all he thought about, and there was no telling what his unconscious mind would come up with in his dreams. 

Sam came up to a dip in the waterway. He tried to do it gracefully, but he ended up twisting and turning around, dropping his gun. Panically, he searched for the gun. He found it as it cocked from above him. _Kimble_ He turned with his hands up, trying to come up with a way to make this situation better. Kimble was shaking and Sam could feel the stressed coming from him. 

_"I didn’t kill my wife,"_

_"I don’t care,"_ Sam didn’t, Sam never truly cared that his soulmate had a wife or killed her, it’s a sick and twisted corner of his mind he didn’t go to often. The sting in his shoulder didn’t compare to the odd feeling in his chest. It felt tight and on fire. He had found him, he had found his soulmate, someone he wanted, but couldn’t have. All he could do is watch Richard flee  
from him. It changes everything. How the hell were they going to get out of this mess?

-

Richard had slipped as he crawled down the waterway, and he crashed against the siding. He leapt from the wires landing in the cold water below. Trying to figure out which way to go, he heard footsteps. Richard stepped away from the light. All of a sudden a gun is rolling down, then a man came tumbling after it. Richard went for the gun, while the man was distracted and cocked it. Slowly, the man turned around and put his arms up. He couldn’t think of what to say, what does a innocent criminal say to a cop who is about to arrest him?

 _"I didn’t kill my wife,"_ trembling with each word, Richard couldn’t tell if it because he was scared or cold. The cop looked taken aback.

 _"I don’t care,"_ The cop tried to smile at him, as Richard tried to ignore the pain in his shoulder and his heart. All he could do is run, run from the man on his knees and the odd expression on his face. He stumbled quickly, but he couldn’t think of where he was going. He wanted to run back to the man and beg for him to let Richard go and help him find his wife’s murder. _Not yet, I have to find the one-armed man before anyone believes me._ Richard came to a bright light and a dropoff in the water. He looked down at rushing water, he stood on the edge of the dam. He was stuck; with nowhere to go and there was bound to be more cops to follow his soulmate. Jumping would more than likely kill him, but whether he lived or died, it would set him free. Free from a soulmate who wouldn’t help him. Free from the pain of his dead wife and best friend. Free from the shameful existence of being Dr. Richard Kimble, wife murderer. 

He heard the cop’s slooshy footsteps. The time to chose was now, die by lethal injection or let fate decide, as it always did. “Richard…” He turned, looked up at the cop, he had a gun pointed at him. “I need you to put the gun down or I will have to shoot you,” The cop-marshall, as his badge indicated- said in a somber voice. In that second, Richard realized he was still holding the gun from his soulmate. A twisted part of his mind laughed, _he had two guns, I like that. Resourceful._ Richard dropped it.  
“Thank you. I’m Sam Gerard, by the way,” Sam lowered his gun and approached him, but still kept his distance. “I still have to arrest you, even though we are…” Sam trailed sadly. 

“Well, I can’t go with you,” He heard himself say, inching backwards. “I have to… I have to f-find… I didn’t murder my wife, and I need to a chance to prove it.” His voice was weak yet determined, a part of him hoped it didn’t sound like he didn’t want to be with Sam. Because that part wanted to run to him and tell him everything, it trusted him without a doubt. 

“Richard, that chance has passed,” Sam had an angered look on his face, yet his voice was soft. “Put your hands above your head,” Sam raised his gun and took a step back. Richard followed his command, glaring at him. “Good, turn around, and get down on your knees.”

Richard turned. _Let fate decide._ He bent and jumped.


	3. Dealing with the Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has to deal with the worry and pain of losing Richard, while Richard combats with the guilty feeling of leaving his soulmate and the need to avenge the first love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the patience and the loving comments! This summer will be lots of updates. Trust me I hate being that person that leaves things on 3/?. I also published this chapter back in jan. but it need adjusting!

Sam stands at the mouth of the spillway. _What just happened?_   He thought to himself. One second Richard was there and the next he was gone. The first feeling to flash through him was overwhelming dread. Richard had just jumped to his doom. There was no possibly why for him to have survived that fall into fast rushing water. His soulmate was here one second and gone the next. But wouldn't he know if Richard had died? Wouldn't his soulmark burn again like it had when they first met?

The next feeling was relief. Relieved that he remembered hearing somewhere that his mark would burn softly again if Richard had died, or at least he hoped-prayed he would. Admittedly he was in denial of the fact that he was dead, because he had to be alive. Plus, his plan had finally worked out. His stupid, crazy teenage life-plan worked out! Being a marshall had lead him to his soulmate. And, how could someone deny Richard of dashing looks. He was as tall as Sam was, maybe an inch or two taller. His eyes, although stressed from this ordeal, were kind and that type of gentle that could only be from age or sadness. The frown lines were evident, but soft. Sam couldn't even imagine the beauty of the man if he were to smile and laugh.

Sam shook the alluring thoughts from his mind. The dread came flooding back as he heard footsteps splashing towards him. How the hell was he supposed to protect Richard from his team? He was a fugitive, after all-the mad dog's fugitive at that. How had he not thought this through before? What was he thinking, this crazy teenage-hopeful dream would never work out in the real world! Now he was cursing that stupid, crazy teenage life-plan. What was he supposed to do? 'Hey, Cosmo, instead of hunting this man down, who also happens to be my soulmate, let's help free him!' He thought about his long time friend and coworker, Cosmo would croak if Sam ask him this.

"Where is he at?" Cosmo shouted over the sound of rushing water. All Sam could do was point tiredly-trying to hid his nervousness. "Shit."

Putting his immense dread into action, he started shouting instructions at Biggs and Cosmo, and honestly he was just riding out his frustration not really paying attention to what he was saying. He strode out of the spillway up to a service door that took them to stairs. After walking around for what seemed like hours, Sam started to wonder if they were ever going to get out of this damn dam Sam, Cosmo, and Biggs fought over directions, which finally brought them to the surface. He started yelling his instructions all over again. Watching with an outsider's perspective, Sam looked over the river moving fast. A strike of pain run through him as a thought of Richard tumbling underwater came into his mind, "Goddamnit! Why haven't they turned off the water?" He couldn't let his shoulder sag or eyebrows to furrow in worry. He had to keep up this facade of strength and determination to catch the fugitive. The fugitive that is his, Sam Gerard's, soulmate.

\---  
Richard let the water move him through the riverbend. He didn't fight it or his emotions that came bubbling up. As he tried to control his breathing before hypothermia set in, his mind was at war with his heart. His mind replayed the scene he arrived to on that winter's night, Helen sprawled almost lifelessly on the ground with a curly headed man standing over her, looking halfway proud of himself. Richard just charged straight at him not questioning or a plan. He hit the man at full force, slamming him into the wall. Richard stood back and glanced down at Helen. She was more lifeless than he had first thought. He started to kneel beside her, when the man recuperated and slugged him right in the jaw. Richard, snapping his head back to the man, grabbed him and pushed against the wall again, and he primally hit the man repeatedly. The man, who only had human arm, eventually fell out of Richard's grasp and tumbled to the stairs. Richard left no gap and strutted behind him and pushed him down the stairs. Sadly, this gave the one-armed man an advantage as he was closer to the door. Watching him leave, Richard thought about running after him, but he heard Helen groan. Rushing back to his wife, best friend, and complete confidant, he knelt beside her and pulled her close to him. Even though he couldn't do anything in that moment to save her, the guilt of not staying home with her that night made him want to shove his feet under a large rock to anchor him and freeze to death.

His heart kept trying to revive him with hope. It wanted him to hope that he would find Helen's murderer. Hope that he would survive this river. Hope that Sam would help him, protect him, or anything but arrest him. His heart played tricks on his mind like how the man looked at Richard before he jumped, the smirk he possessed in the tunnel when he notice Richard had his gun, and the fact Sam had two guns. The man spiked Richard's curiosity, with his dark hair, hard jaw lines, confident, strong structure, and his gentle, gentle eyes that pulled him in. Richard grimaced at how rudely he treated Sam in the tunnel. _He couldn't just put me back on death row and forget about me._ Richard thought about his arms that could keep him safe. _Could he?_  

**Author's Note:**

> The characters, some of the dialogue, and plot belongs to film and show makers.


End file.
